


Granddaughter

by Dark_and_night



Category: Halloween Movies - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, First Meetings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:07:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23934289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_and_night/pseuds/Dark_and_night
Summary: Michael notices you in the ward.
Relationships: Michael Myers/Reader, Michael Myers/You
Comments: 59
Kudos: 562





	1. Chapter 1

He only noticed you the first time because you were brought in with Dr. Loomis. You looked small and scared, wearing a knitted sweater that was several sizes too big for you. It had belonged to Loomis, but he had given it to you on the car ride over.

Michael watched you silently as Loomis helped you check in. Loomis rarely showed such interest in normal patients, so Michael vaguely wondered exactly what it was about you that made you so special.

Two nurses took you away, leaving Loomis by the front desk, watching you go. 

Michael went back to looking at the wall, what interest he had leaving him. His appointment with Loomis was coming up soon, and he would have to endure being talked at for an hour. 

Over time, Michael noticed you around the ward. When he was allowed to be around other patients, you were there, still wearing the sweater that was too big for you. You would look around nervously when you were alone, but usually Loomis was with you, talking with you.

Your eyes never fell on Michael, but he was always watching you. You never noticed his stare, but Loomis did.

He tried not to show any signs that he knew that Michael was watching the two of you. Loomis tried to observe subtly, noticing how, for the first time since he had met him, Michael’s eyes seemed to actually focus and see something. And not just something, but you, his own granddaughter. 

“I’m going to go to the bathroom.” You said, standing.

Loomis snapped back to attention, realizing that he had completely spaced out on whatever it was you had been talking about. “Oh, alright. I’ll be here.”

You nodded, standing and walking to the bathroom.

Michael saw you walking over. The restrooms where right behind him, putting him right if your path.

He moved subtly, so slowly that not even Loomis’ observant gaze could see what he was doing. Michael moved his foot as you walked past, tripping you.

You yelped in surprise, falling as your foot suddenly hit something. You braced yourself for impact when a pair of strong hands shot out grabbing you and pulling you to safety.

“Oh, my god, thank-.” You began thanking your savior, when there was a sudden commotion all around you, making the words die on your lips.

Your grandpa, every nurse in the room, and even some of the patients were staring at you with wide eyes. The nurses had their hands out, shouting things that you couldn’t understand because you were too confused to absorb what it was they were saying. 

Loomis walked closer, his hands out, talking past you, to whoever was holding you.

Their arms tightened around you, the arms were strong, you could feel it by how their muscles flexed around you. Their grip around you didn’t hurt, but from how everyone was reacting, you began to feel scared.

Turning, you looked at your savior/assailant to see a handsome face glaring at your grandfather. 

As you calmed, your hearing starting coming back into focus.

“Michael, Michael, let her go. Don’t do this, don’t hurt her.” Loomis said as sternly as he could manage, but his voice shook slightly, giving away how fearful he was.

The nurses were saying similar things, all of them looking as if they too were scared but trying to hide it. 

You looked back at Michael, starting to shake.

“M-Michael?” You said as he arms tightened around you once again.

He looked down at you, his expression unchanging. He nodded slightly at you.

You would have followed up with something, but you truly didn’t have anything else to say. You didn’t know what to say, you barely knew what was going on. But everyone was acting like you were in danger, so you figured that you must be in danger. 

“Michael, put her down, now.” Loomis commanded, buying time while one of the nurses pulled out a taser behind Michael. It would hurt you too, but that was better than you dying here.

Michael looked at you, his eyes moving up and down your body, making you feel tiny. He reached up his hand, and all hell broke loose.

Loomis cried out and dove for you, the nurses all scrambled to try and hold Michael down, the one holding the taser dropping the weapon in the commotion. You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing yourself for anything, when you felt a slight tug on your collar.

You opened your eyes to see Michael holding up a string that had been hanging off your collar. He let you go, and you scrambled away as the nurses stilled, no longer on the defense. Loomis pulled you into his arms, your grandfather staring in shock at Michael.

Michael held up the string for a moment before letting it drop to the floor. 

The room went silent as Michael went back to staring at the wall. Even the patients were still.

“Um.” You broke the silence, everyone turning to look at you. “I still have to go to the bathroom.”

“Right.” Loomis nodded slightly, looking back at Michael, who had gone back to looking completely dead-eyed. “Right. Walk around him and go.”

You nodded, walking past Michael to the restroom.

Loomis stared down Michael, and Michael looked back at him. 

“What was that, Michael?” Loomis said lowly, signaling to the nurses to take Michael to his room. 

It was only a moment, a flash of an emotion. A smirk on Michael’s lips that lasted less than a second as the nurses grabbed his arms, taking him to his room.

Michael was interested in you. Loomis bit the inside of his lip in frustration. The one sign of anything in Michael’s mind in years, and it had to be you.

God damn it.


	2. The Lion's Den

“I just want you to sit by him, and see if you can get him to talk.” Dr. Loomis said. 

You shook your head. “Please, I told you, I don’t want to.”

“You’ll be safe! I promise. There will be people watching you.” He pressed, frowning at your unwillingness to comply.

You frowned back. “There were a lot of people around last time and they were all acting like he was going to rip my head off. I didn’t feel so safe then.”

“Can’t you just do this for me?” He snapped.

“I am in here for my rampant anxiety!” You shrieked, balling your hands into fists and shook your arms in frustration, tears pricking at your eyes. “I can’t even handle living my life, and you want to toss me in with a violent man!”

“Some things are more important than your anxiety!” Dr. Loomis shouted.

You stilled at his words, tears spilling over onto your cheeks. Your grandfather’s eyes widened as he realized what he said. You shied away from him, wiping your tears on your sleeve. 

“I’m sorry.” He said softly. “But I have been trying to reach Michael for years, and you are the only thing that he’s ever responded to.”

“After killing his sister.” You grumbled. 

He took your hand, squeezing it softly. “I promise, you’ll be okay.” 

You sighed. “Fine.”

*** 

Michael sat in the sunroom, in a chair, staring straight ahead as if he couldn’t see anything.

You were escorted in by your grandfather, his hands on your shoulders. Whether they were there to comfort you or push you forward, you weren’t sure. Dr. Loomis lead you to a chair across from Michael, sitting you down before moving back over to the door, out of Michael’s eyeline.

“H-h-h-.” You stammered, rolling your eyes at your own inability to speak. Sometimes you’d just stutter. ‘Caught on a word,’ your mother would call it. You breathed in deeply, frowning as you collected yourself. “Hello, Michael.”

Michael’s eyes seemed to focus as he focused on you. He nodded slightly, taking note of how your body shook subtly. 

“I’m (y/n).” You said quietly, fiddling with your hands. “I, um, I was told to talk to you.”

Michael raised an eyebrow ever so slightly, settling back into his chair. His lack of response was to be expected, according to your grandfather, but it still made you uneasy. 

“W-well, I’ve been trying to knit lately, I’m not good at it or anything but it helps to pass time, which I need because I’m not allowed to look at the news or anything because it makes me anxious, I’m kind of always anxious-.” You rambled, tucking your hair behind your ears and not daring to look at Michael. He was a killer, but he was surprisingly handsome too.

He watched you silently, his hands folded in his lap as he listened to you ramble. Normally, the sound would grate on his ears, but he didn’t mind you talking. Something about you just made him curious, and he liked that curiosity. 

Michael loved curiosity, he wanted to follow it wherever it took him. And curiosity was trailing him right to you. 

His hand reached out, touching your knee, making your words die off with a gasp. Your eyes widened as you looked down at your knee, his fingers so lightly caressing it you could barely feel them. His fingertips were warm.

His expression didn’t change, but yours was an open book. A mix of fear and surprise and other emotions that Michael had trouble naming. He trailed his fingers down your knee, making you wiggle from the ticklishness. 

Dr. Loomis watched from the door, eyes wide. Was that sexual? Was Michael exhibiting signs of sexual attraction? Or was he just messing around, being playful? Both of those options sounded equally ludicrous.

“W-w-w-.” You stopped yourself, pressing your hand to your mouth, your nerves on edge, your hands sweaty. “W-well like I was saying, I’m, um.” You sighed. “I don’t know what I was saying.”

Michael blew air out of his nose, leaning back in his chair. Even though you were too anxious to see straight, you could see his eyes going back to looking completely dead, his attention away from you once again. 

You stood, your body screaming at you to get away. You power walked to your grandfather, pushing past him aggressively before sprinting to your room.

Michael turned his head to watch you leave, having the strong urge to chase you down. He was sure you’d make a really nice face for him once he caught you. His eye caught Dr. Loomis’, and Michael’s urge quickly died. 

Dr. Loomis frowned, watching as Michael turned his head back to facing forward. How many more times could he send you into the lion’s den and you come out unscathed? How many times was he willing to risk it?


	3. Hands

You sat in an armchair in the rec room, absentmindedly pulling at a string on your sleeve. Other patients were either wandering around or doing other tasks similar to you. 

Often times, in movies, you had seen the inside of places like this where the patients either screamed bloody murder or were doing simple repetitive tasks over and over again. Well, this place didn’t have any screamers, and you considered yourself sane, but you were the living stereotype of ‘mental patient doing something over and over’. It took living through it to realize that the reason for the behavior was boredom, simple as that.

There wasn’t much to do when you weren’t in therapy. So a lot of your time was spent silently picking at something on your nails or clothes. It was either that, or try to talk to someone, and frankly speaking you would rather die than do that. 

You had refused to see your grandfather for the last few days after that Michael character had grabbed your knee, leaving you more bored and alone than before. 

You’d asked a nurse what he thought about Michael, and the nurse had confirmed that yes, Michael had killed his sister when he was ten, but since then he had been a model patient. It had truly been Dr. Loomis who had spread the fear of Michael to the other doctors. Michael had never done anything to lose any of the privileges that the other patients had, and spent most days in his room alone.

The nurse had leaned in and told you that frankly, he thought Michael was as bored and scared as any other patient. He never got visitors, but he was allowed to walk around with supervision. Michael just chose not to.

Which was why it got your attention when you saw Michael shuffle into the rec room. Accompanied of course. 

Michael scanned the room, his eyes falling on you. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly when he saw you, and he made a beeline for you.

You stiffened, looking around for something to do, or find a quick exit, but both exits that weren’t directly behind Michael were blocked with people standing and talking. In order to get around them, you’d have to interrupt their conversations. Yeah, that wasn’t happening.

Before you could come up with any other reason to get away from him, Michael had already settled into the armchair next to yours, staring straight ahead. 

Well, you knew you were trapped. There would be no way to get away from him without him knowing you were trying to get away from him. How long would you have to sit there before that wouldn’t be totally obvious? Five minutes? 

Your panicked thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of something warm encasing your hand. Your head snapped down to your hand to see a strong hand squeezing yours. Your eyes followed the hand up its arm, to the shoulder, to see Michael looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

Heart racing, face flushing to a dark red, your mouth opened and closed as you tried to think of something to say as his grip on your hand tightened. It didn’t hurt, but you couldn’t pull your hand away.

Dr. Loomis sat in his office, shuffling through some paperwork, when a nurse ran to his door.

“Dr. Loomis!” She gasped, out of breath from running over.

He glanced up at her. “Yes?” He asked.

“You told me to update you if Michael did anything. Well, he’s doing it. A thing.” She gestured with her hands, as shocked as the rest of the rest of the ward was.

Dr. Loomis stood up, heading to the door. “Where?”

“Rec room!” She called after him.

He hurried down the hallway to the rec room, damning his bad luck for not being there from the start to see whatever ‘thing’ Michael was doing.

You swallowed, finally finding your voice. “Um, what are you doing?”

Michael’s brow raised by just the tiniest bit, slightly lifting his hand that was holding yours before letting them fall back to the armchair, his grip still absolute. His eyes were alive as he watched your nervous writhing next to him. 

Loomis burst through the door, his eyes widening at the sight. Michael noticed him, his mouth twitching up again before his attention turned back to you.

“Um, well, I was going to go to my room, so if you could just-.” You tried to stand, but he rose with you, your hand still trapped in his. 

You felt small under his height as he looked down at you. 

He slowly leaned down, his lips grazing your ear, making you shiver as he breathed out against you, his words so soft you almost couldn’t hear them.

Loomis stiffened, his eyes widening in disbelief when he saw Michael’s jaw move. He was talking! Michael was talking! For the first time in years!

With that, Michael walked away from you, followed by his escort back to his room.

Your grandfather raced back over to you, grabbing you by your shoulders and shaking you. “What did he say?” Loomis hissed, shaking you more, only making your nerves more on edge than they already were. “What did he say to you, damn it!”

Nervous tears fell from your eyes as you pulled away from him. “Nothing!” You cried.

“Don’t lie to me, I saw him talking to you!” Loomis grabbed your arm again. “What did he say?”

“He said nothing! Literally, he said ‘nothing’!” You sobbed, pulling away again, hugging yourself. “The word nothing, you old asshole!”

Loomis stilled, looking around to see staff and patients alike glaring him down for making you cry. He took a deep breath to steady himself, looking back at you. “I’m sorry, but-.”

“I’m going to my room. Don’t talk to me anymore.” You wiped your eyes, brushing past him to your room. “I think you’re the evil one, grandpa.”

Loomis watched you go, feeling himself deflate. The staff went back to what they were doing, but many of the patients continued staring at him for his outburst. 

He straightened his tie, slowly walking back to his office with what dignity he had left.


	4. Room

Michael sat in his room, staring at the wall as he usually did. Loomis had been even more persistent and loud than usual during their last little therapy session. He had been asking what exactly Michael was trying to do to you, what you made him feel, etc. 

Those were all questions Michael couldn’t answer even if he did have any intention of ever saying two words to Loomis. You were you, and you were fascinating, and that was all that Michael needed to know about you. As soon as his intrigue died he would stop paying you any attention, it was that simple. However, fucking with Loomis did help keep Michael’s interest alive.

He was enjoying being alone with his thoughts, as usual, when he heard someone shuffling into his room. Michael turned to the door, expecting to see one of the nurses walking in, but instead, there you were.

You were wringing your hands together, looking around nervously. 

Michael’s face gave away nothing, but he was as surprised as he had the capacity to be. He never would have thought that you would come to him. He glanced behind you to see that you weren’t being accompanied by anyone.

That was probably not the smartest thing you could have done. Now you were alone in Michael’s room, where he was in control. 

“H-hello.” You stammered, staying close to the door. 

Michael lazily calculated how quickly he could grab you and either kill you or pull you to the bed – he hadn’t decided which when you spoke up again. 

“I um, I wanted to ask you to please stop trying to get back at grandpa through me.” You took a step back, closer to the door. “B-b-because I can’t handle it.”

He watched you evenly, his expression giving nothing away.

You shifted from foot to foot, fidgeting nervously. Michael loved the look of that. Prey behavior.

“Well, I’ll go.” You quickly turned to the door, ready do be done with this when you were stopped.

In the time it had taken you to turn around, Michael had already launched himself from his bed, wrapped one arm around your neck, and the other hand clamped down on your mouth. He pulled you to the wall, pushing you against it, his hand still over your mouth. 

Your breath instantly sped up, your eyes widening in fear and confusion. You looked at him, your voice muffled behind his hand as you tired to ask him what he was going to do to you.

Michael slowly moved his hand from your mouth, stepping back. He curled his finger at you, signaling you to follow him. He walked to his bed, not bothering to see if you were following him. 

Legs shaking, body tense, you followed him without thinking, shuffling to the bed behind him. He watched you as you sat down, watched how you shook in fear.

He tilted his head slightly, knowing that soon enough a nurse would come running in and take you away, and take away one of the privileges the he never used anyway. He knew he was always being watched. But, even just that one moment of control over you was enough for now.


	5. Ignoring

The next few months went by without incident. You refused to speak to your grandfather, and you tried to learn and adjust to life in the hospital. Michael had for the most part stopped seeking you out publicly, which meant that life had gotten about a hundred percent easier. 

The one issue was, you could feel eyes on you sometimes. Which, you would think would be expected in a hospital full of other people, but the feeling followed you around in the moments you thought that you were alone. When you took a walk on the trails, you felt eyes on you there. When you walked to your room, you felt the eyes on your there too. Part of you wanted to believe that it was just the staff keeping an eye on you, but another part of you knew that wasn’t true.

You knew it was Michael. You didn’t know how he managed to stalk you so easily without you spotting him, but you knew it was him. At least he hadn’t made a public spectacle of it, but still.

After a while, the feeling almost became second nature to you. You just expected it wherever you went. Which was why it disarmed you when you suddenly didn’t feel it anymore. Jarring, even. All of a sudden, you just felt alone.

The night you were in Michael’s room, security had come in and separated the two of you. You had been scolded for coming into his room, especially with his reputation. Back then, you couldn’t quite explain why you had done that. Now, you were beginning to want to do it again.

Though you hadn’t enjoyed his odd attention to you, now that it was gone, you missed it. It felt like a rejection. 

Michael, meanwhile, hadn’t truly gotten bored of you. He just knew the best time to pull back. And he could tell that you were going crazy wondering why you had suddenly fallen from his graces. It was fun to watch. 

It was especially fun to watch when the two of you happened to be in the same room as each other. At lunch or in the rec room. He could feel you glancing at him, practically hear the question that was buzzing in your mind; why wasn’t he interested in you anymore?

Another fun aspect of this was that Dr. Loomis had noticed as well, and it was also driving him crazy. Loomis had probably thought that he would be the one to fix Michael, and it would be because of his grandchild. Loomis would have thrown himself a party if things had gone his way. 

Michael knew that his little game was coming to fruition when he was sitting in the rec room, and you materialized next to him, your hands balled into fists on your lap, everything about you tense. You looked straight forward, but your eyes were flicking over to him, obviously looking for some sort of reaction in him. 

He of course offered none, just continuing to stare straight ahead. You were coming to him, how easy. 

You pressed your lips together, glancing at him. “I-I-I like um, I like it here. It’s not that bad.”

Michael remained still, curious as to where you were going with this.

“But, I would like it if I had fr-friends.” You continued, damning your stutter that you could never seem to shake. “And, um, we can sit together sometimes if you want.”

Oh, this was too funny. If Michael had you alone in a room without security coming to take him, the two of you would not be just ‘sitting.’

You squirmed nervously, reminding Michael of an animal trying to escape from a trap/ That only made Michael more excited at the prospect of what would happen if he could string you along long enough to get you somewhere the two of you wouldn’t be bothered. 

Inwardly, you were kicking yourself for this. You hadn’t even liked his attention! Maybe this was something you should bring up with your therapist.

Michael slowly turned his head to you, raising one eyebrow ever so slightly, before rising from his chair and walking off. You sat here stupidly, wide-eyed, watching his back as he walked off. You were moments away from swearing off talking to anyone else forever when he turned back to you, his eyes slowly looking you up and down.

Your breath hitched in your throat at the feeling of his usually dead eyes looking you over with lust. You shivered when he turned, leaving the rec room. You sank into your chair, scared of the excitement that bubbled in your chest from the realization that, on some level, you still had his approval.


	6. Leaving

You walked along the trails next to the hospital, looking at the leaves on the trees. They weren’t turning just yet, but they were close. There was a chill to the air that let you know that summer was dying, and fall was beginning to rise. In the weeks before this day, you wouldn’t be able to go outside with your grandpa’s sweater on, but it was finally getting cold enough that you could. 

You fiddled with the sleeve of the sweater, guilt beginning to settle in your chest. You hadn’t spoken to him since he forced you to talk to Michael, and yet next thing you knew you were talking to Michael of your own accord. It didn’t seem fair that you were still giving him the silent treatment after that. 

The sweater was huge and it was an ugly lemon color, but you loved it. You loved it because your grandpa had given it to you the day you checked in to this place. It was supposed to comfort you and make you feel safer. And it had helped. It was so big it made you feel small and protected.

If you were being honest with yourself, you were only allowed outside because Loomis was your grandpa. You constantly got special treatment because of him. 

Anxiety spread through your body when you thought of how you had treated him. It was always a horrible feeling. It felt like it was spreading through your veins starting from the pit of your stomach, and it spread outward until it was in your fingertips and your toes. Anxiety was fire in your body, but guilt was ice, and it settled in your chest. 

Your therapist had often told you that you shouldn’t fear settling boundaries, because boundaries were healthy. In theory, that all made sense. The reality of it felt a lot different.

A chilling wind cut through the sweater, making you tuck up into yourself.

“I should apologize.” You mumbled to yourself, turning to go back inside. As you turned, you noticed a face in one of the windows, watching you.

You looked up at the window to see Michael staring down at you. He was too far away to read his expression, but you could make an educated guess that he didn’t have one. You could tell his eyes were on you.

You lifted up your hand in a semblance of a wave, pressing your lips into a thin smile. You didn’t expect any reaction from him, so you were about to head back to the door, when – against everything you’d learned about Michael – you saw him move in response to you. 

Michael slowly stood from his chair that had been moved to the window, loving how your eyes widened in disbelief. Honestly, it was far too easy to get a response from you. All he did was stand after you waved.

He liked the sight of you on the ground, and him so far above you. It made you look like you could fit under his shoe. 

You waved again, with a little more enthusiasm this time. He tilted his head in response. He could see how you bounced on your toes in excitement, delighted that Michael was responding to you again. 

If he had two seconds outside with you, god. Nothing could stop him. Not nurses, tasers, nothing would get in his way if he could just get two seconds alone with you. What he would do in those two seconds, for the first time in his life Michael wasn’t entirely sure. Probably grab you and drag you somewhere he could figure it out. 

He did want to see you scared, see you screaming. But, there was something in your giddy excitement that tugged his urges to another place. A place in Michael that was for the most part unexplored.

Michael was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that it took him a moment to notice that you were no longer outside. He sat back down in his chair, going back to staring off into space.

Meanwhile, you walked back into the building, the anxiety and guilt you had just been feeling were now being crushed by a sick feeling of acceptance. Was Michael scary? Yes. But did it make you feel special that you were the only person on earth he seemed to respond to? Yes, absolutely yes. 

Maybe your grandfather’s obsession with Michael had rubbed off on you, you weren’t entirely sure. But god, it did make you feel special. You weren’t entirely sure how the transition from fear to affection started, but it made you feel better.

A smile was stuck on your face as you moved through the hall, a small bounce to your step. You were so wrapped up in your own thoughts you didn’t register your grandpa until you accidentally rammed right into his chest.

Loomis grunted, falling back as you barreled into his chest. He snapped to attention when he realized that it was you.

“(Y/N).” He said with surprise, looking down at you. 

“Oh.” You stepped back, looking up at him. “Hi.”

The two of you stood there awkwardly, neither of you sure what to say next. Loomis wasn’t sure if he should speak after you had given him the silent treatment for so long, and you weren’t sure how to apologize for refusing to see him. 

He broke the silence by clearing his throat. “Well, it might comfort you to know that Michael will be leaving soon.”

Your heart sank. “Leaving? Why?”

“It’s not safe for something like him to have a fixation on you. So we’re moving him, as we probably should have years ago. We’ll be shipping him off by the end of October.” He smiled, expecting your face to light up now that he had personally removed the danger he himself had put you in. What he didn’t expect was how your face fell. 

“Oh.” Was all you said, your shoulders slumping, your good mood instantly broken. “Okay.”

Loomis frowned; surprised. “Aren’t you-?”

“I’m going to my room.” You interrupted him, slinking off. He tried to call out to you, but you ignored him. 

Michael was going to be taken away, somewhere else. If only your grandpa had told you that when you were still scared of him. Maybe you wouldn’t have started wanting him.


	7. Red

Dr. Loomis couldn’t understand it at all. He understood your anger at him for making you talk to Michael, he understood that he messed up as a grandfather for doing that. But now, now that he was taking the problem – that being Michael – away, you were just as upset as before. Maybe even more upset.

For the last month you’d barely spoken two words to him, even though he was taking away the thing that scared you so badly. He couldn’t understand it. All his education and all his years of treating patients and he couldn’t even do one thing right by you. 

Well, fine. Loomis would go ahead as planned and take Michael away, and eventually things would go back to normal with you. Everything would be fine once that problem child was out of the picture. And today was the day.

Loomis was sitting in the passenger’s seat of a large truck, staring forward. It was pouring rain, torrential in fact. The nurse was driving the car, talking about something or other that he wasn’t entirely paying attention to. He only noticed when he realized she was talking about Michael. 

He responded when needed, telling the nurse what it was that she was curious about. Normally, Loomis would be overjoyed to get Michael out of his hospital and somewhere more secure. But the fact that you persistently seemed to hate him made this little success bitter. 

“They don’t normally let them walk around do they?” The nurse said suddenly. 

Loomis looked up to see patients in hospital gowns walking around outside in the rain. He frowned, his entire body going cold.

“Drive faster.” He snapped.

*  
*  
*

Today was the day. Michael knew that he was going to be taken away today, and he would be sent somewhere away from you. That idea bothered him more than he would like to admit to himself. No one else in all the years he had been stuck in this hospital was as fun as you. 

Michael was so bored, he had been bored for years. The day he was scheduled to be taken somewhere else was as good a day to finally break out and misbehave as any other. 

He wasn’t much of a long-term planner. He was more of a short-term goal kind of man. But breaking out today, this needed a little bit more thinking involved. The first thing he wanted to do was be free, but there was a second goal lingering in his mind that made things a little more complicated. 

Michael wanted to take you with him. He wanted to have you around, have you to himself so that he could finally figure out what it was he wanted from you. That, that was downright irritating at worst and a complete and total hinderance at best. 

Killing you and leaving on his own was the smartest and fastest option. But then, Michael wasn’t entirely sure if killing you was what he wanted. The thought of no longer being able to play with your emotions was part of the reason he wanted to escape in the first place. 

Then again, you were pretty submissive. You’d probably go anywhere with Michael if he gave you a harsh enough look. 

Killing again was easy. Amazingly so, as a matter of fact. The night nurse never even saw it coming. One moment they were checking up on Michael during bed check, the next they were meeting whatever maker it was that they believed in. All these years of being a model patient had lead up to this, killing without them ever seeing it coming. 

Immediately, an alarm sounded. Whoever watched the cameras had evidently seen what happened. Interesting. Michael always felt that the people who worked in this hellhole were incompetent, just like the doctor. 

Michael picked up his newest weapon of choice – a bit of metal he pried off the bottom of his bed – and headed out into the hall. A couple of security guards tried to get in his way, and though they had better weapons than Michael, he had the advantage because he wanted to kill. It was over before it started.

His weapon dripped red as he stalked down the hell, the keys the guards had on their belts now clutched in his fist like a trophy. His eyes scanned the numbers of the rooms until he came to yours. 

It took him a moment to unlock the door, the shrieking of the alarm grating on his nerves as he found the key, unlocking your door and stepping inside.

You sat on the bed, curled up in a ball and staring at the door with wide eyes. You had your hands firmly over your ears, rocking slightly as the alarms did the same to you as what was happening to Michael. It was having much more of an effect on you, though.

Your eyes widened even more when you saw the blood splattered all over Michael, your body beginning to shake. 

Michael stalked forward, grabbing your wrist with his free hand and jerking you off the bed, making you yelp. You stumbled, whimpering as your uncovered ear was forced to listen to the nails on a chalk board cries of the alarm. 

He shot you an angry look, shutting you up. He hurried out, his grip on your wrist so absolute you could already feel yourself bruising under his force. You tried to keep up with him, if only so that he wouldn’t jerk on your arm and hurt you any more than he already was.


	8. Break

The halls were full of patients and workers alike, everyone confused and scurrying around like they would be the next to die. Most of the workers knew that it was Michael who had killed the nurse and the guards, but the patients had no idea who had gone on a killing spree. When they saw Michael storming past them, covered in blood, dragging you behind him.

Some of the patients were shuffling around in a daze, their night medication making them drowsy but the cognizant part of them rising them from their beds when their door was opened. Michael hit them with his weapon, making people crumple to the ground all around you, making you scream in fear and empathetic pain. His grip tightened when you made an annoying sound like that, and after the third person he hit out of the way, you bit your lip to keep from any sounds escaping you. 

You realized as you ran to keep up with Michael that he had unlocked as many other patient’s rooms as he could on his way to your room. Nurses were rushing around, torn between catching Michael and helping those he had injured. The smart ones rushed to the injured. A couple of brave ones tried to rush Michael, thinking that after years of dealing with violent patients that they could handle Michael. They were wrong. No nurses tried to stop him after that. 

“Michael, Michael, please-!” You tired to reason as he knelt down, grabbing a key card off a nurse. He twisted your arm, making you cry out in pain, your knees buckling. He rose as you crumpled, dragging you along behind him as if you weighed nothing.

He glared down the people rushing around, heading to the nearest exit he could think of, pressing his newfound key card into the scanner. He felt the corners of his mouth turn up into his version of a grin when the light flashed green. You two were out.

*  
*  
*

Loomis stared out at the yard, at the patients wandering around and the workers trying to corral them back inside. The dread settled like a ball of lead at the bottom of his stomach. He knew who had done this, he knew it in his soul. Just like he knew Michael was pure evil, and no one believed him, he knew that this could only be the work of Michael. 

The nurse drove to the gate, hitting the buzzer to be let in. No one responded on the other end.

“Jesus Christ.” Loomis got out of the car, going up to the gate. This was impossible. What about you? Were you okay? Michael had grown attached to you in his own way, what had become of you?

The nurse watched from the front seat, hitting the buzzer again, frowning. Her frown turned into a mask of fear when a hand came out of nowhere, grabbing for her face.

Loomis turned to see the nurse struggling to get out of the grip she was encased in, though the assailant was blocked by the car. Loomis knew exactly who was on the other side even without seeing his face.

You tried to pull away from Michael’s grip while he was busy fighting with the poor woman in the car, but his grip on you was absolute, especially as the woman in the car broke from his grasp, screaming and crawling out the other side, falling out the door. 

Michael opened the door, practically tossing you inside before getting inside and hitting the gas, starting to turn the car at full speed, making it impossible for you to get out. In the brief flash you saw of the hospital from the outside, you saw the woman running towards your grandfather.

“Grandpa!” You yelped as your body was thrown against the door, Michael’s turn too sharp and you seatbelt-less. 

Loomis’ mouth opened, his hand outstretched as if he could grab you out of the car and pull you into the safety of his arms. That was the last you saw of him as the car sped off, Michael in the driver’s seat, barely able to drive, and you in the passenger side, frozen in fear as the hospital grew ever smaller behind you.

*  
*  
*

Michael stopped the car when he felt that he had gone out far enough that the two of you wouldn’t be caught. He parked the car behind a few haybales some farmer had put up for decoration, looking over at you in the passenger side. You were for the most part still, except for the fact that you were shaking a little. 

The sound of the engine going off brought you back to reality, and you looked over at Michael, the color draining from your face. 

He opened up the car door, stepping out. He felt himself relax a little when he noticed you sitting obediently in the passenger seat, staring at him through the windows. You didn’t move until he opened up your door, pulling you out and throwing you onto a small pile of hay from a dale of hay that had fallen apart.

You shrieked in surprise, finally broken of your fearful stupor just long enough to fall onto your elbows instead of your back, the pain jostling you back into the present. Michael was over you in an instant, staring down at you with eyes that your grandfather had described as dead so many times. But they weren’t dead. Not by a long shot.

“W-w-what are you going to do to me?” You whimpered, looking up at him. Part of you was terrified beyond thought. The other part of you noticed once again how handsome he was, how he had literally whisked you away from all of your problems. What was there to fear now that he was in control of everything.

Michael looked down at you, leaning in close, looking at the delicate bones in your neck. One tight grip and they would snap. But he didn’t want to break you. For once in his life he didn’t want to break another person. Not in the way he usually broke someone, anyway. 

“Michael?” You breathed as he brought his hand down onto your shoulder, his fingers just brushing the edge of your neck.

He looked at you, torn between killing you and giving into another instinct he never thought he had. 

You breathed out slowly, lifting your head and brushing your lips on his, steeling yourself for whatever this kidnap meant. Were you scared? Absolutely. But while this man was above you, there was nothing that you could do.

His breath hitched ever so lightly when your lips grazed his. He stared you down as your head settled back onto the ground, your eyes looking up at him expectantly, torn between fear and appearance.

He was going to break you. He was going to break you in an entirely new way that he had never tried before.


End file.
